


Confined To My Imagination

by Whispersmummy



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Masturbation, Smut, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9920795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispersmummy/pseuds/Whispersmummy
Summary: Set the evening after Brave New World (18.48)A bit of a plot I suppose. Teeny amount.Bernie was on annual leave the week after their first kiss.





	

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Serena swung in through the front door to an empty house. Today was her one night a week without Jason; he spent Wednesday night at Alan’s. She made the most of it every single week, usually without fail. She always had the same series of events planned.

Firstly, she ordered her favourite dish from the Chinese. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and watched an episode of Downton Abbey (since it finished, she just got her box set out and watched the next episode, wherever she was in the series, and started from the beginning when she got to the end), whilst she waited for the food to be delivered. Then she ate her dinner and finished her wine.

Then she filled herself a bath and added any smelly oils and bath foams and bombs she fancied. She lay in the bath for as long as she liked, no issues with nephews wanting to use the toilet or clean their teeth for bed. Then she got out the bath and dried herself and wrapped her favourite fluffy bathrobe round her body. She sat in bed with a few candles, listening to a smooth and jazzy radio station.

Then she took off her robe, lay back and had some, what she had officially named ‘me time’. She thought about past experiences, fantasies she had, generic faces or specific film stars or people she saw in passing at work and could raise an eyebrow to. Men. Always attractive. Always giving her the utmost attention. And then she fell, sated, and deeply asleep.

Serena had always known she was a sexual creature, someone who enjoyed sex and wanted sex on a regular basis, whether with another person or by herself. So this is why she allotted one night a week for ‘me time’. To keep her loins happy and the sex part of her brain fulfilled.

This particular evening went without a hitch. Food arrived without delay, wine had breathed to perfection and Downton was a particularly fluffy episode where no one died. Her bath was bubbly and oily all at once and felt wonderful against her skin, the heat delving deep into her muscles better than any masseuse could even try. She felt clean when she got out.

The only problem was the lingering feeling of disappointment, one she'd never felt before. Bernie had decided, for them both it had seemed, that they were to keep this thing between them ‘confined to theatre’. This lovely, anxious, shaky, friendly feeling she'd been experiencing during the last week, during Bernie's week of annual leave and during her inability to consider bridging the gap and actually contacting her. The feeling that had been brought on by the kiss they had shared on the floor of theatre one whole week ago.

They had agreed today, or Bernie had agreed and she'd sort of gone along with it, that they were better off not-together. Because apparently not-together worked and together wouldn't. So they weren't to talk about it. And they weren't to act upon it. Because Serena was straight. And because Bernie was a bit broken and a bit screwed up. Not the most hope-filled situation Serena had ever been in, but well that wasn't the point.

Serena sighed a little sadly as she lit the candle by her bed and sunk back tiredly into the pillows. Soft cotton under her hands and over her feet, where she pulled the duvet over them. She checked her phone and found no messages from anyone. She shrugged inwardly. “Oh well,” she sighed out loud, resigning herself to a night of thoughts and not-togetherness.

She shook herself and smiled despite her frustration. ‘Oh come on Campbell,’ she thought. ‘So your little snog at work didn't go so well. You've been nervous all week and then you feel upset that she didn't, what? Ask you out? Pathetic.’ She shook her head and grimaced and huffed to herself. She needed to pull herself together.

She banished all thoughts of Berenice Wolfe from her mind and decided to focus on the task at hand – so to speak.

She lay back and closed her eyes. She'd seen a film recently, one with that Johnny Depp in. He was appropriately rugged-looking and pointy. She breathed slowly and imagined him … where? On a desert island – that would do. She was stranded and he was coming to rescue her (not that she needed rescuing she was doing very well by herself thank you very much). She lay under palm trees with the sea a little distance away, the sun catching the leaves. He strode up the beach, hair blowing in the breeze.

“I’ve got your back,” a voice rang in her ear. She opened her eyes and rolled her eyes at the flickering ceiling. She shook Bernie out of her head. No, she would not think about Bernie. Although, annoyingly she realised, Bernie would be useful in a desert island situation. ‘And I bet she looks great in a swim suit…’

No. This was not a space for Bernie. This was a space for Serena to have some guilt-free time to herself.

Closing her eyes again, Serena changed the setting – a field perhaps. Full of flowers. Secluded. She thought about the waiter at her last meal out, Italian man with dark eyes and dark skin. He wore a lovely crisp white shirt and a bow tie and pressed black trousers that hugged his backside a bit. He'd lie in the long grass with her and cup her face and …

Why was he wearing theatre scrubs? He was a waiter? Why did he have blonde curly hair and wet eyes and a desperate twitchy chin like he was going to cry.

“Serena.”

It was Bernie's voice again. And now it was Bernie's face. And Bernie's lips on hers, and her hands grasping her arms and her jaw.

“Oh for goodness sakes, bugger off,” she hissed, opening her eyes again and trying to force Bernie out of her head. “Go away.” The candle was the only thing that moved and even it seemed to flicker in knowing amusement. She scowled it at. Maybe that was it, too much light. She blew out the candle, got up and pulled her curtains closed, sweeping the room into darkness.

That was better. She lay back, pulled the covers up to her chin and undid her robe cord. She wiggled her hips a bit. Well at least her loins knew what she needed tonight, even if her brain kept pulling her off track.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She stretched her arms above her head and tried to relax. She didn't want to think about the blonde trauma surgeon because, to be honest, she wasn't used to being turned down (not that she'd asked, but still) and she was a bit annoyed at her. She scowled at the memory of the careful way that Bernie had spoken with her that afternoon, the slow words of caution, skirting around but implying the fact that it just wouldn't work between them.

Why not? Serena had thought angry thoughts during her ‘me time’ before and she knew that ones brain went where it wanted to in these situations. She set her jaw. What she would do to have the courage to confront Bernie about this whole thing.

She considered how it would be if she went round to Bernie's little flat right now, knocked on her door. She would expect Bernie to be in her pyjamas, if she even wore them. Maybe just underwear and a T-shirt. Those legs stretching on for miles. Serena's hand idly slipped down her front and her eyes closed. She smoothed her palm against her breast, catching her hard nipple between her fingers and rubbing a little.

Sod it. This seemed to be working. It's not like anyone would ever know.

In her mind’s eye she pushed Bernie back from her door and caught the gasp of surprise with a kiss. Bernie's arms wrapped round her back and she returned the kiss with a moan. Suddenly they were both in their underwear (why hang around scenes that didn't do the job?) and Bernie had her back in the bed and was apologising for everything she'd said.

“I'm sorry, Serena.”

Bernie's hands on her breasts, both of them, rubbing and scratching and caressing at her skin. Pinching and rolling her nipples. Serena stretched back as her own hands did what she imagined Bernie's could.

Serena slid a hand down between her legs and her fingers swirled against her mons, coarse neat hair, then lower down, soft outer lips. She stroked so gently and thought about Bernie leant on one elbow above her, touching her and asking permission with a careful gaze. Serena nodded against her pillow, brain fully embedded in the fantasy, mind’s eye settled and right there with Bernie in her flat.

Gasping as her fingers slipped between her outer lips, settling between soaked inner lips, she held her hand still and let her hips roll a little under her duvet. She imagined Bernie, shy and unsure, above her, those dark eyes needing permission for everything.

“Please,” Serena whispered into her dark empty bedroom.

Bernie nodded and slid her fingers downwards towards and then dipping inside her, just a little, so gently. Then back up, pads of her fingers circling that distended bundle of nerves. Serena pushed her hips upwards against her hand, pulled at her own nipple.

And then, in Serena's fantasy, Bernie lowered her head and it was her mouth, her tongue now. Serena rubbed back and forth, then circled, seeing Bernie's hair splayed against her lower stomach, eyes lifting on occasion to check on her as she wrapped her own fingers into that hair and lifted her knees to give her better access.

“Oh God, Bernie.”

Serena moaned, free in the knowledge she was alone. Free in the knowledge that no one need know she wanted Bernie so badly. The duvet slipped down a little as her hips started rocking with each circle of her fingers, although really it was Bernie's tongue and lips, flicking her clit, running downwards, sliding inside her.

She let her first and middle fingers dip inside, bent her thumb to press against her clit, and rocked her hand so that her fingers started to thrust inside her, thumb knuckle hard against her clit. “Bernie.” She could feel her orgasm starting to build and oh goodness it was going to be such a release and so so good. “Oh Bernie.”

The bedroom door creaked open and Serena was only half-aware of the noise. She blinked a little however and came back to herself and stilled her hand. She held her breath and realised she was uncovered from the waist up. Burglar?

“I'm so sorry,” Bernie said, lingering by the door with a shocked look on her face. Bernie really was there. The fact slapped Serena in the face and she removed her hand. Tried desperately to hide what she had been doing. “Oh God, Serena I … I wanted to check you were okay and … I didn't get an answer so I … used my key.”

Serena pulled the covers up to hide her body from the stare that didn't seem to be able to tear itself from her. She leant to turn on the bedside lamp and sat up, hands round her knees. The orange glow highlighted the blush on Bernie's face and neck, and Bernie dropped her gaze and her head. “I thought you were having a nightmare,” Bernie breathed, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth.

Serena sighed, her entire sex quivering and desperate for release. She sucked her bottom lip for a moment. “Bernie I…”

“I should go.” Serena's heart burned and she shook her head.

“You should stay,” she breathed, a tender look in her eyes. Bernie's eyes rose to her, narrowing a little in curiosity. “How much did you um …” Serena looked away, stared at her curtains for a long moment. “I'm assuming you gathered …”

“I thought you were having a nightmare about me,” Bernie whispered, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind her back. “Because you said my name.”

“I wasn't,” Serena admitted, her dry hand making a random gesture in the air. “I was awake.” Bernie nodded slowly. There was a long pause.

“What d’you want, Serena?” Bernie's words were careful and slow, like they had been earlier.

Serena's eyes lifted and she looked at Bernie and Bernie looked at her and in that moment all the extra stuff didn't matter. The divorce and the presumed heterosexuality and the fact that they worked together.

“Come here,” Serena requested, sitting back. “Take off your clothes.”

Bernie complied, without thinking really, shrugged off her coat and her trousers and her shirt and her bra. She left her underpants on, but shifted to the bed and knelt down on the floor. She lay a forearm against the mattress on top of the covers. She looked deep into Serena's eyes and saw the want, knew how Serena felt. “What were you thinking about?” she asked.

“You.”

“What was I doing?”

Serena bravely took Bernie's hand and pushed down her covers and pressed Bernie's fingers right against her clit. She gasped a bit, eyes dark. Bernie kept her hand still for a moment, taking in the sight of Serena's curvy flushed naked body exposed for her, a sheen of sweat on her shoulders, ribs heaving with arousal.

Bernie leant forward to kiss her, softly but not chastely. Bernie circled her fingertips and her breathing hitched as she felt how wet and swollen Serena was. Serena slipped to lie down, legs open wide and hands grasping for Bernie's hair. The kiss broke and Serena's eyes fell closed, she was already so close, back arched, hips pressing up in a rhythm against Bernie's hand. Bernie slipped her fingers down, slid inside Serena, carefully gauging her reaction, then, spurred on by the way Serena groaned, started pumping in and out of her, her thumb coming forward to touch …

The minute her thumb brushed against Serena's clit, the brunette came, in long hard pants and moans, pulling Bernie's lips down to her own and muffling her own moans against the kiss. Bernie didn't stop sliding in and out of her but did remove her thumb for a moment. Serena relaxed a little into her pillows as she felt the orgasm flicker out, Bernie's fingers teasing extra quivers within her. She groaned when she felt Bernie start rolling her clit again, pushing her higher again and over the edge for a second time.

“Oh god, Bernie.”

Serena shook hard with the second, stretched back, fingers grasping Bernie's head. As it eased, she reached for Bernie's wrist to pull her away. Bernie climbed up from her kneeling position on the floor, on the bed and leant on one elbow and pressed a kiss to Serena's forehead, wiping her hand on the duvet where it was bunched under Serena's legs.

As Serena came back to herself, she blinked open her eyes and stared up at Bernie in wonder. She felt a wobble in her lip and tears in her eyes, and pulled Bernie down to her, to kiss those soft lips and try to express how sorry she felt. That she hadn't stood up for her own feelings earlier. That Bernie had found her in such a state this evening.

Bernie kissed her slowly and stroked her hair and slid an arm under her shoulders to embrace her. When they pulled back they caught each other's gaze and both grinned despite themselves. Serena sniffed a bit and chuckled, palms sweeping across Bernie's cheeks. “What a pair,” Serena mused, rolling her eyes and giggling harder when Bernie chuckled too.

“You should have said you were so hard up.” She got a smack on the shoulder for that. Serena looked properly up at Bernie and took in the expanse of exposed skin. She smiled wider, toothily.

“It's the one night a week I get to myself.”

“Ah,” Bernie said, nodding and smiling. “I'm sorry I interrupted your night.”

“Please,” Serena said, voice low, “feel free to interrupt me whenever you like.”

“I was worried about you,” Bernie admitted. “I wasn't sure we'd really … laid the issue to rest.” She purses her lips around a smirk. “Um, and from this evening’s … events … I would say I was probably right to worry.”

“I don't want to keep it ‘confined to theatre’,” Serena breathed all at once, before she lost her nerve. Bernie considered her and touched her cheek. Serena smiled against the touch, scooting over a bit in bed and settling them both under the duvet. Bernie leant her chin on her hand again, her other hand splayed wide against Serena ribs.

“I said that because … I thought it would be easier for you.”

“I've never been one to take the easy way out,” Serena said, challenge in her raised chin. Bernie nodded.

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too.” Serena lifted to take Bernie's jaw and pull her down to kiss her. “I don't think we're done here,” she breathed as the kiss broke. She slipped a nervous hand down to hook her thumb round Bernie's underwear. Bernie gave her an affectionate look.

“You should sleep. It's a lot for you to think about.”

“That's very kind of you by … not going to happen.” Bernie rolled her eyes and helped push her own underwear down. “However bizarre this has been compared to how I thought our first time would be … I must insist on getting a turn too.” Bernie barked out a laugh and Serena trailed her fingertips up and down Bernie's side. Serena raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You've envisaged our first time?”

“I've had a whole week away from you to think about it. Haven't you?” Bernie blushed and looked away and Serena didn't push her, simply touched both of her hip bones and pulled until Bernie straddled her. Elbows either side of Serena's head, Bernie leant down to kiss her.

Hands swept Bernie's body, her sides, her breasts, the strong muscles of her back. Nails scraped a little and she pushed Serena against the pillows with her kiss, gasping a bit. Serena slipped a hand between them and traced her fingertips against the soft hair between Bernie's legs. “Are you ready?” Serena breathed. Bernie nodded. They kissed slowly and Serena's fingers slipped between Bernie's lower lips. Bernie tried not to push her hips down into the mattress.

Lying with Bernie above her, around her, lips teasing and breasts pressed flush against her own, Serena’a heart felt warm and fluttery. She'd never touched a woman like this before. She never felt a woman's wetness on her own hand, a woman's clit against her fingertips, never felt a woman moan against her lips as she pressed and circled and rubbed.

But this was Bernie. She knew Bernie. She realised she knew Bernie better than anyone else in her entire life. She supposed that's why the fantasy had played out so freely, so accurately. Bernie was easy to imagine because she knew her so well.

She felt Bernie start to roll her hips a bit, pressing a little when she swept and caressed the very tip of her clit with her fingers. Serena looked up and watched Bernie's face, eyes shuttered. Each time she touched that tiny cluster of nerves, lines appeared between Bernie's eyebrows and her jaw went a little slack. Serena hummed a bit, a happy noise, smiled up at her. Bernie smiled back.

“You'd tell me, wouldn't you,” Serena whispered, her breathing laboured and shaky with nerves and amazement. “If I was doing it wrong?”

“Oh Serena,” Bernie said, shaking her head and closing her eyes for a moment. “I don't think you've got much to worry about in that department.”

“That's … that's good.”

“You said …” Bernie took a moment to bite her lip and moan against the simply lovely feelings trickling through her. “You said you have a night to yourself every week?” Serena nodded. “Do you … lie here and … every week?”

“Regular as clockwork,” Serena replied, her lips parted, her head thrown back as her fingers experimented with shapes and patterns against Bernie's sex. “What's a girl to do when she's in her house alone?” They're eyes locked and Bernie's breath was ruffling her own fringe as she panted.

“Now that's something to think about,” Bernie mused, trying to keep the conversation light, and to give Serena more time to touch her. She didn't want to come just yet. She was enjoying herself far too much. “Serena Campbell, lying in bed each week, hand between her legs and my name on her lips.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Serena said wryly. “I never thought about you before tonight.”

Bernie rested her forehead against Serena’s, eyes starting to shutter in pleasure, hips starting to thrust properly. Serena brought her other hand down to Bernie's hip and pressed in encouragement each time she thrust. She lifted her chin to press her lips to Bernie's, swallowing a moan, before Bernie had to break the kiss to breathe.

Serena changed the pattern she was making with her fingers, fluttering just two fingertips against Bernie's clit in tiny pulses, trying to focus on the tip. Bernie bent one knee up high, opening her sex for Serena, moaned and gasped and thrust her hips. Serena gasped herself, momentarily overwhelmed that she was here, beneath Bernie, making love to her like this, touching her right there,

“Don't stop,” Bernie panted against Serena's cheek as her head dropped a little, lips by Serena's ear.

“I won't,” Serena promised.

Bernie thrust hard and erratically a couple of times and Serena cupped her so that her hand wasn’t dislodged. Her fingers flew, barely focussed anymore on what they were doing, but hungrily relishing in Bernie moans and gasps and the tightness she felt as Serena pressed her free palm against the small of her back. Bernie dropped her head against the pillow, lips parted, eyes screwed shut and came, hips jumping and legs so spread and Serena's hand right there between them making her feel so good.

Bernie held herself up on one shaky elbow and rested her forehead against Serena's. “Okay?” Serena whispered.

“Okay.” Serena took her hand away and held Bernie's hip, smoothed her fingers against Bernie's skin at her side. Bernie just breathed, eyes focussed in wonder on Serena's. “You are fantastic, you know that?” she breathed, shuddering a little. Serena pulled at her hips until they were lying on their sides facing each other.

“I don't think I'll be able to forget *this* ever happened,” Serena replied, swallowing a bit with nervous tension. Bernie slid an arm under head and Serena turned her head to press a kiss against the inside of her elbow.

“Nope. Definitely something to remember.”

“And you were right in one thing, this afternoon,” Serena said, shyly. “We do make a good team.” They grinned abashedly at one another and Serena hid her shyness by leaning forward to kissing Bernie nose. Bernie chuckled and kissed Serena's nose in return. They both snickered, then became quiet and still, lips coming together with a small gasp from each.

Serena pushed Bernie's messy curls back from her face as they kissed, sleepily and gently, before breaking the kiss and inching a foot close to Bernie's. She snuck her foot between the blonde’s calves and Bernie squeezed her foot a little with her legs. Serena rested her hands against Bernie's front, high up by her sternum. Bernie's hand curled round Serena's waist. They both sighed.

Pulling the duvet up properly around them and figuring they'd talk some more in the morning, Bernie kissed Serena's forehead lightly and snuggled down against the pillow. She watched Serena's eyes close, watched her breathing even out.

They had more to talk about of course. But Bernie knew one thing. They needed to start being honest with one another. And Bernie needed to stop trying to protect Serena. She figured they'd find a way to make it work, whether they finally decided to be together or not. But things didn't need to be clarified anymore, nothing was left hanging in the balance. They'd never be less than friends.

Bernie closed her eyes, safe in the knowledge that whatever happened, it would be okay.

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

 

 


End file.
